Title: The Need
Author: gypsyflame
Characters/Pairings: Neville/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Prostitution; humiliation
Other Warnings: D/s; spanking
Word Count: 4,726
Summary/Description: Ashamed of his own needs, Neville only indulges them with prostitutes. It all works fine until Malfoy is the one to show up at his door.
Author's Notes: A thousand thanks to literaryspell for her awesome beta skills!




Neville Longbottom considered himself a good man.

He’d never stolen or cheated, and rarely lied. He paid his taxes on time, supported his friends in need, and provided for his aging grandmother without complaint. Animals and children liked him instinctively; plants blossomed under his care. He’d never harmed an innocent person, let alone killed one.

So, yes, Neville thought it was fair to call himself a good man.

If sometimes he felt the need to lash out, to dominate and humiliate – that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Everyone had secret desires. He craved control, but he would never take it from someone unwilling. Or at least he hadn’t yet.

The truth was, sometimes that need frightened Neville in its intensity. It wasn’t constant; it ebbed and flowed with his mood – at times overpowering, at times nonexistent, usually somewhere in between. He had never failed to keep it in check, but there was always a nagging fear in the back of his mind that one day, it would rule over him.

The only way Neville could sate the hunger without compromising his conscience was to pay someone. He wasn’t naïve; he knew there were plenty of people out there who needed to submit just as much as he needed to dominate. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to sleep with them. With a prostitute, everything was impersonal, a straightforward business transaction. There was no fear of taking advantage, no worry about overstepping boundaries.

No complications.

He travelled often in his work as a dealer in rare herbs and plants, and his business trips gave him ample opportunity to fulfill the need before it got out of hand. Though he wouldn’t have been embarrassed for his friends to know he paid for sex, he’d be mortified if they ever found out why. So Neville limited his trysts to when he was abroad. That way, there was little chance the prostitute he engaged would know or recognize him – and perhaps be tempted to reveal his secret. Sex workers were bound to client confidentiality by magic, but no spell was one hundred percent foolproof.

Neville had been in southern Spain for three days, trying to obtain some cuttings of the rare Artemisia granatensis from an herbalist in the Sierra Nevada, when the flirtations of a sweet, innocent young village boy had caused the need to suddenly surge. He’d immediately returned to his hotel in Granada and contacted his favourite agency, which was international in scope and renowned for discretion. They’d promised to send someone within the hour, yet it had already been almost two.

As Neville paced the floor of the suite’s sitting room, he wondered what he would do if nobody came. It wasn’t a dilemma he’d ever faced before. The agency had always been completely reliable –

There was a knock on the door. Flooded with equal parts relief and annoyance, Neville yanked the door open, ready to tell the rentboy off for being late. The second his eyes landed on the man standing on the threshold, however, he froze.

“Malfoy?”

Though he couldn’t comprehend how it could be, there was no doubt in his mind that the man who had knocked on his door was Draco Malfoy. Neville hadn’t seen him in years, but he didn’t look much different – the same white-blond hair, grey eyes, and haughty features.

Malfoy blinked, then frowned. With a sudden, not entirely unpleasant jolt, Neville realized that Malfoy didn’t recognize him. He had lost weight and gained a significant amount of muscle since the Battle of Hogwarts, and he knew his face looked different without the stubborn bit of baby fat that had plagued him throughout his school years.

He hadn’t changed completely, though, and when he shifted awkwardly, Malfoy’s expression morphed into one of shocked recognition.

“Longbottom?”

“What are you doing here?”

Malfoy’s brow furrowed. “Working.”

“You’re not…” Oh, gods. There was only one reason Malfoy would show up at his hotel room in Spain with no warning. “You’re from the agency?”

“I apologize for my tardiness, but the escort they originally intended to send to you had a family emergency. I was the only one nearby who could fulfill your… special requests.”

Malfoy’s initial astonishment had faded into a faintly puzzled expression. He didn’t seem in any way disturbed by the odd turn of events, nor did he seem to be preparing to storm off. Neville gaped at him.

“If you’d like me to leave –” Malfoy began.

“Don’t you want to leave?”

“I’m a professional, Longbottom. And believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me.”

“Oh.”

Internally, Neville debated all the reasons he should tell Malfoy to go back to the agency. But Malfoy had already seen him, already knew what he’d paid for, and nothing Neville did now would stop Malfoy from telling people if he were intent on doing so. Besides, after being put off for so long, the need was clawing at him, driving him to distraction. He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle it if it wasn’t satisfied soon.

Neville stepped aside. “Er… come in, then.” Malfoy moved past him into the sitting room, and Neville closed the door behind him. At a loss, he said, “Do you want a drink?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Scotch okay?”

“Perfect.”

Marvelling at how completely at ease Malfoy seemed, when he himself was reeling with anxiety and a sense of unreality, Neville poured two glasses of scotch. He handed one to Malfoy and downed the other immediately.

“So,” Neville said, “you’re a whore.”

He regretted his callous tone the second the words left his mouth, but if Malfoy was offended, it didn’t show on his face.

“I prefer the term escort, but whatever you’d like, of course.”

“Why?” When Malfoy raised his eyebrows, Neville clarified, “Why’d you become a – an escort? It doesn’t really seem like something you’d want to do.”

“Do you think you know me well enough to make that judgment?” Malfoy snapped, but then he sighed. “After the war, my options were extremely limited. This job pays very well, and it’s not particularly difficult or time-consuming. It seemed to be the best choice at the time I made it.”

“Is it still?”

“Yes,” Malfoy said without hesitation.

Neville put his glass down, even though he badly wanted another drink. Malfoy did the same, and Neville noticed he’d barely touched his.

Taking a deep breath, Neville said, “You mentioned that you were the only one who could fulfill my special requests. So you must know what they are.”

“Well, of course, Longbottom. I wouldn’t meet with a client without knowing what he was expecting.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but that was before you knew it was me. Won’t that make things… difficult for you?”

“Will it make things difficult for you?”

Neville gave Malfoy a long, slow onceover. He was an undeniably attractive man, and the need was raging so strongly by now that there were very few men Neville would have turned away. Malfoy wasn’t on that list. “No.”

“Then I’m sure I’ll be fine. Though I have to admit, I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be into those kinds of things.”

“Do you think you know me well enough to make that judgment?” Neville threw Malfoy’s words back at him.

Malfoy smirked. “Anyone who’d known you in school would think the same. You’ve never exactly been the commanding type, have you, Longbottom? More the sidekick type, really.”

Neville slapped him in the face, hard enough to make him stumble a little but not hard enough to really hurt him. Malfoy caught his balance and raised a hand to his cheek, his eyes wide with shock.

“You’ll want to show me a little more respect,” Neville said calmly. He already felt better.

“…All right.”

Neville slapped him again – not in anger, simply in reprimand.

Malfoy got the message. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Take off your shirt.”

Malfoy still looked taken aback, but as he’d said, he was a professional, and he’d clearly been well-trained. He obeyed quickly, folding the shirt and dropping it on the couch. Neville stepped close to him and gave one of his nipples a cruel pinch, prompting a gasp.

“Since you brought up Hogwarts,” said Neville, “maybe we should have a little chat about it. You were a horrible git in school.” When Malfoy didn’t answer, Neville twisted his nipple further. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir.”

Neville released his nipple and dragged his hand down Malfoy’s chest and stomach. “I used to dream about getting revenge on you.”

Malfoy’s eyes flicked to Neville’s uncertainly.

“They were just half-baked fantasies, you know, the kind kids have – punching you out in the Great Hall, sabotaging your potions, stuff like that.” Neville started walking slowly around Malfoy, hands never leaving Malfoy’s skin. “Never any concrete plans, though. I’ve never been a violent person.”

As he said it, Neville ran his hand over Malfoy’s other nipple. Malfoy tensed, expecting a pinch like the one before, but Neville just rolled it gently between his thumb and fingers before sliding his hands down to rest on Malfoy’s hips.

“Then – I’m not sure when, it was probably sixth year – I started noticing this.”

He squeezed one of Malfoy’s arsecheeks hard. Malfoy sucked in a startled breath.

“That changed things, as you might imagine.” Neville stepped away from Malfoy and moved around him again, so that they were facing each other but not touching. “Take off your shoes. Socks, too.”

Malfoy did so, looking a little bewildered. Once he was barefoot, Neville hooked his fingers through Malfoy’s belt loops and pulled him close.

“I can still remember the first time I dreamt about you that way. Do you want to know what happened?”

Neville could tell Malfoy wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or just making it all up. In fact, it was a little of both. Neville hadn’t lusted after Malfoy in school, though he had dreamt about him once. He’d been horrified at the time.

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy finally said.

Neville unbuckled Malfoy’s belt and slid it out of the loops very slowly. “You were in one of the greenhouses afterhours – homework or extra credit, I don’t know. That’s not really the point.” He dropped the belt on the floor. “The point is that I came across you there, caught you off-guard, got your wand away from you.” He popped the button on Malfoy’s trousers and lowered the zip. “You begged me to let you go.” Neville abruptly stepped back and pointed to the remainder of Malfoy’s clothing. “Off. Everything.”

Malfoy took off his trousers and pants, not in the least bit self-conscious, though he did seem a bit wary. His cock was half-hard, which surprised Neville a little.

Neville shook his head, disregarding it. He’d learned that many wizarding prostitutes took aphrodisiac potions before they saw their clients. Maybe Malfoy was one of them. It didn’t matter; Neville would enjoy this more if Malfoy was aroused, whatever the reason for it.

Getting himself back on track, Neville said, “Do you think I let you go?”

“No, sir.”

“No. I stripped you down and fucked you right there in the dirt.” He grabbed Malfoy and pulled him hard against his body, letting Malfoy feel his erection and taking the opportunity to get his hands on Malfoy’s firm arse. “You struggled at first, but by the end you were loving every second of it. I had a lot of those dreams after that, though I never seriously considering following through on any of them. Lucky for me you ended up a whore, eh?”

Neville took a moment to savour the sound of Malfoy’s harsh breathing. Everything he’d said about the dream had been true, although he hadn’t really had any others after that – not about Malfoy. That had been right around the time he’d started realizing he needed something… more.

“Why don’t you get on your knees and show me how good you are with that whore mouth?” he said.

Malfoy dropped to his knees without hesitation and opened Neville’s trousers. He took a sudden breath. “Longbottom,” he said admiringly. “If I’d known this was what you were carrying around all these years, maybe some of those dreams of yours would have come true.”

Neville pulled on Malfoy’s hair, making him cry out. “You like it? Then suck it.”

Malfoy grasped the base of Neville’s cock with one hand and started licking up and down the length of it, sucking teasingly at the head but not going any further. Neville gave a dissatisfied grunt, put his hand on the back of Malfoy’s head, and pushed him down so that his cock was forced down Malfoy’s throat. Unprepared, Malfoy gagged a little.

“I said suck it, slut, not play with it.”

Malfoy let go of Neville’s cock and held onto his thighs for balance as he deepthroated him. He was very, very good at it, and Neville found himself nearing the edge sooner than he’d expected. Usually it took more than fucking someone’s mouth to really get him going when he was in this kind of mood, but he hadn’t counted on the fact that this was Malfoy – Malfoy on his knees, sucking Neville’s cock with a skill that could only be born of intensive practice and an eagerness that, if not genuine, was supremely well-faked. Neville pulled Malfoy’s mouth off his cock and used his grip on Malfoy’s hair to pull him to his feet.

With a cheeky smirk and false concern, Malfoy asked, “Is my whore mouth not satisfying enough for you, sir?”

Fed up with the way Malfoy was constantly testing his limits, Neville grabbed him around the waist and hauled him sideways against his own body, so that Malfoy was perpendicular to him and bent over his forearm. Before Malfoy could react to the sudden movement, Neville landed a hard smack against his arse. Malfoy made a sound that was a combination of protest and approval. Neville hit him again.

“Is this what you want?” he said. “Because this is what you’re going to get if you don’t start watching your tone.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want you to exhaust your arm, sir,” Malfoy said, even more insolently than before.

It was what he wanted, Neville suddenly realized, and he berated himself for not seeing it earlier. He’d taken Malfoy’s attitude personally, assumed that Malfoy was being disrespectful because of their history. Maybe there was some of that in play here, but now Neville was sure that Malfoy was also just a naturally pushy sub. He was purposely testing Neville in an effort to get Neville to respond with greater force and authority – it might be something he did with all his clients. Neville kept forgetting that Malfoy did this for a living.

Reassured, Neville began to spank him in earnest. Malfoy clutched his forearm and spread his legs wider to steady himself, lifting his arse into the blows and whimpering at the pain-laced pleasure. Neville was fascinated by the way the taut muscle bounced under his hand, the way the pale flesh quickly progressed from white to pink to angry red.

“You’re so bad, Malfoy. Such a dirty whore.”

“I kn – ah! – I know, sir.”

His hand burning, Neville abandoned the spanking in favour of running his fingers down the crease of Malfoy’s arse, rubbing over his hole. “How many cocks have you had up here?”

“I don’t know exactly, sir.”

Neville pressed his dry fingers threateningly against Malfoy’s unprepared hole. “Give me an estimate.”

“I…” Malfoy paused to think, then said very quietly, “Hundreds, sir.”

Neville’s spine tingled pleasantly at the thought of the once proud and arrogant Draco Malfoy on his knees or back in hundreds of different hotel rooms, letting hundreds of strange men use and abuse him. He squeezed one of Malfoy’s sore arsecheeks until Malfoy groaned and tried to squirm away, then let go and stood him upright. Grabbing Malfoy’s wrist, he said, “Come with me.”

Malfoy followed him into the suite’s bedroom, and Neville used his hold to shove him onto the bed.

“On your back.” He retrieved a bottle of lube from the bureau and tossed it at Malfoy. “Get yourself ready.”

Malfoy spread his legs and bent his knees so his feet were flat on the bed. He poured a generous amount of lube onto the fingers of his right hand before working one into his arse. Neville sat at the foot of the bed so he could get a good view, and it was then that he noticed that Malfoy was not only fully hard, but that his straining cock was dripping with arousal.

Neville raised his eyebrows. Either Malfoy had taken a powerful aphrodisiac, or he was actually enjoying himself, because Neville hadn’t touched his cock even once. Could Malfoy really take pleasure in being dominated and humiliated like this? Every other rentboy Neville had engaged had only done it for the extra money.

Deciding to follow up on his hunch, Neville said, “Do you know what I think? I don’t think you became a whore out of necessity. I think you wanted to do it.”

Malfoy said nothing, concentrating on stretching and slicking his hole.

“I think you would have been letting all those strange men fuck you anyway, just because you’re a greedy little cockslut, and you figured you might as well get paid for it.”

Malfoy turned his head away, biting his lip as he added a second finger. For the first time that night, a light blush stained his cheeks.

“I bet you love being a whore, love spreading your legs for any man who has the money to pay for it.” Neville watched as Malfoy scissored his fingers inside himself, hand moving faster than before. “Am I right, Draco? Do you like being a whore?”

Malfoy closed his eyes and pushed a third finger into his hole, letting out a little moan as he twisted his fingers. “Yes. Sir.”

He wasn’t lying.

Neville slid up the bed so he was sitting by Malfoy’s legs. “Stop. Pull your knees up.”

Malfoy removed his fingers from his arse and grasped the back of his knees, pulling them against his chest so that he was spread wide and exposed to Neville’s gaze. He didn’t open his eyes, so he jerked a little in surprise when Neville slid three of his own fingers inside him.

“Tell me the most humiliating thing you’ve ever had to do,” Neville said. He brushed his fingers lightly against Malfoy’s prostate, just to hint at the pleasure he could bring Malfoy if he cooperated.

“I was hired for a – a stag party once,” said Malfoy, taking a shuddering breath. “They dressed me in lingerie, made me dance for them. Made me sit on all their laps, passed me around… there were a lot of them, and they all wanted me. They took pictures…”

He cried out as Neville, lust stoked by the story, rubbed fast and hard against his prostate.

“Did you come for them? Did you come while they used you, humiliated you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy said with a sobbing moan.

“How many times?”

“Th-three, oh gods, please –”

Every muscle in his body was strung tight, his toes curled up, his fingernails digging into his knees. Neville pulled his fingers out.

“No, don’t.”

Neville gave his balls a reproving smack. Malfoy made a strangled noise.

“You’re not in charge here, Draco. Who is?”

“You are, sir.”

“That’s right. Now, I want you to tell me how you like to be fucked best – what gets you off the hardest.”

“From behind, sir.”

“I should have known. You really are a slut. Get on your knees and grab the headboard.”

Malfoy obeyed, his movements clumsy with arousal. He took hold of two of the iron bars on the headboard, his back heaving with his rapid breaths. Neville waited until Malfoy was in place before shucking his own clothing and kneeling behind him. He rubbed his cock against Malfoy’s hip.

“You want this?”

“Yes, sir. Please.”

“Where do you want it?”

A tremor ran through Malfoy’s body. “My arse, sir, please, I want you to fuck my arse.”

“Show me.”

Malfoy spread his knees wider and arched his back until his body was straining, raising up his hips and arse in offering. Neville lined his cock up with Malfoy’s hole, nudging it a little.

“You can come if you can manage it,” he said, “but if you even try to touch your cock, I’ll tie you up and torture it for hours.”

Malfoy was still processing that when Neville drove inside him. He didn’t bother giving Malfoy time to adjust, just grabbed his hips and fucked him brutally hard, yanking Malfoy back onto his cock with every thrust of his hips against Malfoy’s still-pink arse. Malfoy made desperate, encouraging noises and moved with Neville as best he could.

“Should have fucked you like this at Hogwarts. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been such a prat, if you’d known I was going to spank you later and fill you up with come.”

Malfoy said something completely incoherent.

“Or maybe that would have just made you worse, because you want to be punished and fucked. You know you deserve it. You deserve to be a whore, to suck cock until your jaw aches, to be spanked until you can’t sit, to have your tight arse split open for another man’s pleasure –”

Malfoy suddenly screamed, his body seizing up. He shuddered violently, knees sliding against the bedspread and hands white-knuckled around the headboard as he came untouched, the writhing of his body so powerful that Neville almost lost his grip on his hips. Come splattered the blankets and pillows while Malfoy’s harsh screams trailed off into gasping moans.

“Fuck, oh, Merlin,” Neville groaned, slamming his cock into Malfoy’s clenching hole as fast and hard as he could. He’d never seen a man react so intensely, so passionately, to his abuse. Instead of frightening or disgusting him, as he’d always thought it would, it filled him with a fierce bliss and a sense of… ownership. Pride.

Malfoy sagged, his death grip on the headboard and Neville’s hands on his hips seeming to be the only things keeping him upright, but still he pushed back into Neville’s punishing thrusts. “Hit me,” he said breathlessly. “Hit me while you fuck me open –”

All of Neville’s breath left him in a rush, but his body reacted without the need for thought. He smacked Malfoy’s arse hard, hard enough to bruise, harder than he’d ever hit anyone in his life, and then he did it again and again until it was finally too much and he was coming, buried as deep in Malfoy as he could get, and Malfoy just took it, took it and begged for more.

He slumped on top of Malfoy’s back, completely and utterly spent. Unfortunately, Malfoy was just as worn-out, and he didn’t have the strength to support them both. His limbs gave out and he fell against the mattress with Neville still inside him.

“Ugh.” Malfoy twitched feebly. “Longbottom, get up. I can’t breathe. And I’m lying in the wet spot.” He twitched again, more forcefully. “Longbottom.”

“All right, all right,” Neville mumbled. He pulled out of Malfoy and fell off to the side, closing his eyes.

Malfoy moved as well, just enough to avoid the come on the bed. They lay there silently for a long time as their breathing evened out and the sweat cooled on their bodies.

Finally, Neville just had to know.

“Did you take an aphrodisiac before you came here?” he asked, opening his eyes and turning onto his side to look at Malfoy.

Malfoy made a face. “No. Those potions can have dreadful side effects.”

“So…” Neville didn’t know quite how to phrase his next question. “So you really…”

“Get off on being humiliated?” Malfoy’s tone was slightly bitter. “Yes. I railed against it for years, but you can’t change something that fundamental about yourself. When I ended up in this line of work, it seemed wiser to just give in to it. It fetches quite a high price.”

“It never… scares you?”

Malfoy had been staring up at the ceiling, avoiding Neville’s eyes, but now he looked at him directly. “It used to. I was convinced that if I started indulging it, it would take me over. But once I stopped wasting my energy trying to deny it, the opposite happened. It just became a part of me, no more or less important than any of the other parts.”

Could it work that way for Neville, too? After a thoughtful pause, Neville said, “Before, when I asked you if you liked being a whore, you said yes. Was that true?”

“Mostly. It’s a good living – a very good living. I only have to work a few hours a day. I have sex on a regular basis, and I almost always enjoy it. But…” Malfoy hesitated. “It can be… empty.”

“Then come back to England with me.” Neville hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t even known he was going to say it, but now that the words were out, he felt no need to take them back. He sat up. “I’ve been ashamed of myself for years for wanting this. I wouldn’t let myself sleep with anyone else who wanted it, because I was afraid that would push me over the edge somehow. But you – that was the best I’ve ever had. I can’t imagine never feeling that again.”

Malfoy sat up as well. “What are you saying?” he asked, frowning.

“Quit the agency and come home with me. Help me work this out. I can pay you; whatever you want to charge, I’ll pay it. All you have to do is promise not to take any other clients while you’re with me.”

Malfoy looked like he was waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, his brow knit pensively. “It won’t be cheap,” he finally said.

Neville laughed. “I have plenty of money. So what do you say?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Why not?”

“Good.” Neville grabbed Malfoy’s arm and pulled him across the bed into his lap, equal parts awed and turned on by the knowledge that he could manhandle Malfoy as roughly as he wanted, and Malfoy would like it. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

***

In the early hours of the morning, when he was sure Longbottom was asleep, Draco slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. He looked himself over in the mirror, pleased by the bruises and bite marks that adorned his body – proof that Longbottom was sincere in his interest.

It had been a stroke of good luck that he’d seen Longbottom’s name on Micah’s assignment. A quick perusal of Longbottom’s file had convinced him that this was the best chance he’d had yet at getting away from the agency. Unbeknownst to their high-profile clients, the agency kept thick dossiers on every one, gleaned from intelligence gathered by the escorts who catered to them. Longbottom’s painted the picture of a self-hating dominant who’d never allowed himself the release of being with a true submissive.

Draco had known he could give Longbottom that – in spades. Arranging Micah’s “family emergency” and taking the assignment himself had been child’s play.

Still, he had to admit that his plan had worked better than even he had hoped for. He had tried this before, with other men he’d known from his life before the agency, and he’d failed every time. He hadn’t expected Longbottom to be so desperate for reassurance, but it had undoubtedly worked in his favour. After tonight, he’d have the man eating out of his hand.

Giving himself one last satisfied smile, Draco returned to bed. He would be safe from the agency with Longbottom. They’d never come after such a powerful man, at least not openly. And the less ashamed Longbottom was of his desires, the less chance the agency would have to blackmail him with them. Draco would just have to ensure that happened quickly.

As he turned onto his stomach to avoid putting weight on his sore and thoroughly abused arse, Draco was confident that it would.